Rules of Engagement
by Heero de Fanel
Summary: In which Friedel and Loggins are in a tiff, Rean's trying to help, and Alan and Patrick are unconscious.


**Rules of Engagement**

Because in a game that could have just as easily been called Trails of the Criminally Underused NPCs, I really, really liked these two.

* * *

"Hello, Rean Schwarzer speaking."

The high pitched voice that greeted the swordsman was both familiar and welcome, and he sat up just a little bit straighter on the bench, his attention piqued. " _Rean?"_

"Towa," he greeted, amiable as ever. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The resigned chuckle that greeted his ears moments later told him all he needed to know. _"I'm really sorry, but it looks like I'm going to have to impose on your time again; you're not busy, are you?"_

"No, I'm not," Rean answered truthfully - a rarity for him, to say the least. Even when he wasn't helping the council proper, he didn't like to remain idle for too long if he could help it; Master Kafai had frowned on what he called dilly-dallying, and while the hermit wasn't against some leisure time here and there, he preferred to keep Rean's rest periods during training short and sweet.

It had been great for his swordsmanship, if not great for his short term health. Couldn't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs and all that.

" _You're sure?"_ Towa pressed, and Rean's eyebrow raised a little at the uncertain lilt in the brunette's tone. " _I mean, you don't have to say you're not if you are, this isn't really an official request – "_

"Easy there," he replied, more than a little amused at his friend's ever-present hesitation. "Even if I was, it wouldn't be anything too pressing – we're in between field studies so Class VII doesn't have any more on its plate than usual. Besides, you take on too much work as it is. I've said it before, and I'll say it again; I'm more than happy to do whatever I can to help you out."

A fond giggle. _"Reliable as always, and don't think I'm not grateful. But like I said… this isn't exactly student council business. You could probably call it a personal favor more than anything else."_

Rean cocked his head the slightest bit. "Well, color me intrigued. What's the favor?"

There was a brief moment of silence before Towa spoke again. " _You've met Loggins before, right?"_

"The Vice-President of the Fencing Club, right?" Rean asked, the image of the broad-shouldered, perpetually scowling teen forming in his mind's eye as he spoke. "I have, though I can't say I know him all that well. We've seen each other in passing here and there, not much besides that – I actually only met him and Friedel because I helped out Bridget a little while back."

 _"Oh, good! I should have figured that you'd have met Friedel too if you already know Loggins. They usually stick together like glue outside of classes…which is what makes this entire situation so odd."_

Rean blinked. "Situation?"

 _"Yes. The thing is… as far as I can tell, it looks as though those two are in a bit of a tiff right now."_

Okay, he really hadn't seen that coming.

"Really?" he asked, more than a little surprised. "I mean, I don't exactly hang around them a lot, but I heard they've always gotten along well until now, right?"

" _Right! Well, at the start of our first year Loggins was proving to be a handful, but Friedel managed to quash that and they've been friends ever since. But lately they've hardly been talking, or even interacting with each other, and it's so…"_ she trailed off in frustration, and Rean could picture her throwing her hands up in the air, every bit the portrait of distress.

"Strange?" Rean offered.

" _Exactly!"_ Towa agreed, the righteous conviction in her voice so palpable that the dark haired boy found it difficult not to offer up a salute unseen. _"They're both so tense and snappish now, there *has* to be something going on!"_ The brunette paused for a moment, seemingly thinking her last sentence over. " _Well, I'll admit that Loggins is usually like that anyway, but Friedel's in just as bad a state and she's normally unflappable, so…"_

The swordsman nodded sagely in a gesture that the entire population of Thors and Trista had come to recognize as the Aidios sent salvation to all their troubles, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. "I can see how that might make things a little awkward, especially when you're friends with them both. I can definitely relate."

Needless to say, having to deal with Jusis and Machias being at each other's throats and Laura and Fie attempting to be awkwardly civil during their respective conflicts – not to mention living through Alisa's month long silent treatment - had given the swordsman an acute empathy to what Towa was currently going through right now… though he had a gut feeling that, like his own friends, this wasn't any run of the mill fight Towa was bringing up.

She laughed weakly. _"I figured you might. I don't suppose you'd be willing to poke around and see what might be going on? I've tried speaking with them both, but all I get is them saying that nothing's wrong while looking like everything's wrong."_

He barely repressed a chuckle. Been there, done that.

"I can certainly try my best," Rean began, mindful not to make a promise that he might not be able to keep. "I'm not sure they'd be too thrilled to open up to me if they're not up for talking to you, though. You do know them better, after all."

 _"I know, but I think that you not being as close actually might help in this case. I'm not sure if you know this, but you've gotten quite the reputation as a mediator over these last few months."_

"… I'm honestly not sure what I've done to deserve that other than keeping Class VII from self-destructing in the early days, but I'll gladly take the compliment!" he laughed, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "With that vote of confidence, it's hard not to feel optimistic about this."

The sound of a high-pitched cheer. " _That's the spirit!"_

"Haha. So, who should I start with first?"

 _"Hmm… I think Loggins. I know it's not uncommon for him to grab a quick snack at the cafeteria before starting practice, and considering the situation – "_

"He's probably going to make his snack last for a good long while," he said, memories of a nervous and angry Alisa avoiding him at every turn running through his mind. "I wonder…?"

 _"Wonder what, Rean?"_ Towa asked, sounding a little curious.

Rean shook his head, snapping himself back to reality. "No, it's nothing. Anyway, I think you've given me enough information to go on for now, and I don't want to keep you from anything pressing you might have to do. I'm sure your schedule's packed as is."

" _It's really not as bad as it could be, but thank you anyway,"_ she giggled, the pleasant notes reverberating in his ear. "Please don't hesitate to call if you need any more information, Rean!"

"Duly noted. Leave it to me!"

And with that, the swordsman clicked his ARCUS shut with a flourish and stood up, stretching his arms above his head with a long sigh, before turning his gaze in the direction of the Student Union and giving it a firm nod. Reaching down to his satchel, he rummaged through it for a second or two before pulling out a well-worn notebook and flipping it open to a blank page, a resolute expression on his face.

"Let's get to work."

* * *

 _\- According to Towa, Friedel and Loggins aren't speaking to each other right now. Definitely odd, considering how close they seem normally._

 _\- I'm supposed to try and talk to them to see if I can figure out what's going on – I hope that I'm as good a mediator as Towa seems to think I am!_

 _\- She said that Loggins is probably in the cafeteria right now… fingers crossed that he's in a talkative mood!_

* * *

"Excuse me. Is this seat taken?"

It didn't exactly take Rean very long to locate his quarry once he had reached the cafeteria; indeed, it would have been very difficult to *not* notice Loggins slumped over at a corner table, looking for all the world like he was content to sit there and…

Well, 'mope' may have been a bit of a cruel word, but Rean had seen Instructor Sara's reaction whenever a fresh load of administrative work had come across her desk. He knew moping when he saw it.

The polite greeting seemed to briefly snap Loggins out of the trance he was in, and the unfocused stare that met Rean's was equal parts resigned and tired; a far cry from the second year's normally fiery expression.

"Oh, Schwarzer. It's a free country, do what you want," he replied brusquely, waving a hand in Rean's direction as the dark haired boy sat down, the swordsman's wary gaze roving over the fencer all the while.

He was a little relieved that Loggins didn't look or sound particularly hostile – a very real possibility considering his usual attitude and how he had reacted to the mess with Alan and Patrick before.

As if his silent evaluation had somehow been overheard, Loggins looked at Rean again, this time with his brown eyes narrowed and glinting with a little suspicion. "For Aidios' sake, if dumb and dumber decided to get into it again, this club's gonna be short two members in no time flat. I don't have time to deal with this crap," he groused, obviously not enthused with having to deal with the two first years restarting their feud.

Rean quickly held up his hands in the universal gesture for 'easy'. "Uh, as far as I know Alan and Patrick are… getting along, for lack of a better term," he told the second year, Bridget having passed on word of their grudging yet stable truce. It seemed that miracles were not in short supply this school year. "You don't have to worry about that."

Loggins snorted before taking a savage bite out of the bun in front of him. "Well, look at that. Something actually went right for me today. Surprise surprise."

Rean raised an eyebrow. Self-pity was something that he didn't think belonged on anyone at Thors, but it seemed especially out of place on the boy across from him.

Before Rean could say something in reply, he was cut off by Loggins, who was looking at him with undisguised curiosity now. "Wait a sec. If you're not here for those two idiots, why *are* you here then?" he asked, setting the mangled bread back down onto his plate. "No offence or anything, but I can count the number of non-gofer social calls you've made outside of Class VII on one hand and still have five fingers left over."

That drew an unwilling smirk from the Class VII field leader and he simply shrugged in response, magnanimously deciding the point wasn't worth contesting no matter how much he disagreed with it.

(He wasn't _that_ bad, really!)

"The thing is," Rean began, all too mindful of how delicately he had to handle these next few moments, "I was actually asked here on behalf of a… friend, of yours. They seemed to notice you acting a bit strangely as of late, and for discretion's sake wanted me to…"

Rean trailed off there upon seeing the second year visibly tense for a second or two, before Loggins took a deep breath and exhaled in a remarkably controlled manner, somehow managing to look almost poised.

"… Lemme guess. Towa?" he asked Rean in the flattest tone possible, his words betraying no anger or irritation even as his hand rose to massage his temples.

In spite of the situation, Rean couldn't help but chuckle a little. He couldn't stop himself; the taller boy had the tiny brunette pegged, and they both knew it.

"Heh. Figures she'd send someone else after I told her to not to worry so much about other people's business," Loggins muttered, though the lack of heat in his grumbling was noticeable. "Goddess. I'd love to be annoyed with her, but she's too damn nice."

Rean grinned broadly. "Haha, she really is. That's not such a bad thing, though."

"Didn't say it was."

A brief pause.

"So. If there's anything I can do to – "

Loggins snorted, cutting Rean off immediately. "You really don't come with an off switch, do you?" Smirking a little at the first year's sheepish reaction, the taller boy shrugged his shoulders in resignation, looking for all the world like he'd have rather been anywhere else.

"Thanks but no thanks. I made my bed, and now I'll have to lie in it. Not much you – or anyone – can able to do about it."

The frown on Rean's face wasn't missed by Loggins. "What?" the older teen challenged, some of his signature brashness finally coming to the fore. "You think I'm wrong?"

Rean crossed his arms and leaned back a little, looking thoughtful.

"I'm not necessarily saying that," he finally said, just when Loggins was starting to look like he was running out of patience. "But then again, I can't say for sure if you're right, either. The only way to know for sure is to talk with Friedel face to face and get everything out in the open. Otherwise, you'll just be playing the what-if game for Aidios knows how long, and that's the kind of thing that'll keep wearing you down until you've got nothing left."

One of Rean's many talents – and arguably the one that yanked people's heads out of their behinds more often than not – was his ability to tell people exactly what they needed to hear but didn't want to hear _without_ getting them (too) angry or upset, and it was obvious from the sour look on Loggins' face that the swordsman's words were ringing true.

"Trust me on this one. I spent the better part of a month not being able to look my classmate in the eye because we couldn't communicate," Rean continued, hoping to press his advantage.

Loggins couldn't quite stop himself from smirking a little, much to Rean's surprise. "So Emily told me. Back when lacrosse season started Reinford was pretty vocal about how supposedly pissed she was at you when she wasn't busy dealing with Florald's sister or looking like a sad puppy, right? Guess you two got over that. Makes sense that you've got all this sage wisdom about dealing with ticked off women now, anyway."

Rean's voice was composed and level even as his cheeks burned, much to the amusement of the older teen. "… Yeah. We did," he answered, not averting his gaze in the slightest. "It took us until our first field study, but we talked, got everything resolved and we were both better for it."

"Glad it worked out for you, then. Sorry to say it's not gonna be that simple with me, though. I mean, it took you guys a month to hash that out, right? It'll be a lot longer than that before she'll bother giving me the time of day again. I… fucked up pretty bad," Loggins finished, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Maybe," Rean said, his tone as calm as ever. "But one way or the other, it'd be a load off your mind to find out, wouldn't it?"

The older teen looked at Rean for a few moments, his expression unreadable, before he gave a weak sounding chuckle and leaned back in his chair, one hand covering his eyes.

"… Great. This is what I've been reduced to. Having a first year do my dirty work for me."

Rean resisted the urge to clench a fist in triumph. It would have been poor form.

"Oh, I'm not going to try to smooth things over or anything. That's not my place, and I'm well aware of that. But at the very least… I can try and see if she'd be willing to open up lines of communication."

Loggins raised an eyebrow. "Without killing me? Or you, for that matter? She's pretty damn terrifying, you know."

"So everyone else tells me," Rean laughed, remembering all too well the looks of respect and fear that the Fencing Club's captain brought about just by having her name mentioned.

Or, as Crow so artfully put it once: " _I use a gun, and she uses a sword. Easy peasy, right? Lemme tell you, Rean; you could stick me in a tank 200 arges away, and I'd *still* rather throw up a white flag, because if I miss somehow? Wounded, ANGRY Friedel, complete with aura of supreme ass-kicking. Yeah. No thanks."_

"But I think I might be able to get her to at least speak with you. I'm not going to promise anything, but I'll try my best," Rean continued without missing a beat, echoing what he had told Towa earlier.

Loggins heaved a deep sigh before he leaned forward and nodded slowly, his body language very much that of a man daring to hope against all odds.

"Okay. No hard feelings if you can't, though," he said. "To be honest, I feel like I'm kinda throwing you to the wolves."

Rean flashed a grin at him. "Like I said – I've been there. So, any ideas where she might be right now?"

As he expected, Loggins answered immediately. "Fencing Club room," he informed Rean succinctly, wincing a little as he did. "Word of warning; we have practice today, and uh… I've been kind of skipping out lately. She's going to be spoiling for a fight one way or another – she hates when members miss meetings unless they're dead or dying.

"I'll keep that in mind. Wish me luck!"

The second year watched as Rean departed, before he shook his head and dropped his eyes to his feet, his fingers idly playing with the fabric of his slacks.

"… Good luck. I have the feeling both of us are gonna need it."

* * *

 _\- Loggins seems pretty sure that Friedel's not going to want anything to do with him, but I'm going to see if I can change her mind; I promised both him and Towa that I'd try my best, and that's exactly what I'm going to do!_

 _\- If practice is running right now, she must be in the club room. That's what Loggins said, anyway, and it certainly makes sense._

 _\- What the hell, Emily. What the *hell*._

* * *

In all honesty, Rean wasn't sure what he was expecting to see when he made it to the Thors gymnasium.

It was a safe bet, however, that he didn't think he'd arrive to the club room only to be greeted by the battered and very much unconscious forms of Alan and Patrick lying on the padded floor, both looking like they had seen far better days.

"H-Hey!" Rean exclaimed, the instincts that had only been honed by his time in Class VII taking control immediately as he dashed into the room. "What happened here?!"

The white clad pile of limbs that was Patrick Hyarms stirred once, then twice, before giving up the ghost with a weak noise that was a cross between a groan and a curse.

Alan, however, managed to roll over onto his side upon hearing Rean's voice and tried mightily to send a bleary – and quite possibly concussion induced – stare at the new arrival.

"… Rean?" the green jacketed teen asked weakly, squinting at the Class VII field leader. "Is that you?"

"Got it in one," he answered, kneeling down beside Alan while looking more than a little relieved – at least one of them was conscious and speaking. "This may sound like a stupid question, but bear with me – are you all right?"

Alan somehow managed to find it in himself to chuckle, though he was still clearly in no shape to move anytime soon. "Uh… I see three of you and I'm talking to the middle one. I think that probably says it all."

Rean snickered in spite of himself. "At least your sense of humor isn't broken."

"Heh. Shame about the rest of me, though. Help me sit up?"

A few (very painful, for Alan) moments later, and the brown haired boy was upright and peering around the room, though still blinking long and hard at the overhead lights and looking as though he would have rather been still unconscious.

"Easy does it."

"Yeah, no kidding. Thanks for the help, Rean. Nothing easy about this practice though, that's for sure."

"Let me guess," Rean sighed, knowing the answer already but having to confirm anyway. "Friedel?"

Alan nodded as best as he could. "I've never seen her that fired up before! Don't get me wrong, she always puts us through our paces and by the end of practice I'm usually about ready to welcome death, but this time was a totally different level from what she normally brings out against us. We never stood a chance…"

The Eight Leaves initiate nodded in sympathy, Alan's words having brought back memories of when Master Kafai had thought he was being just the slightest bit lackadaisical in his training… and the old hermit knew only one way to bring wayward students back on track.

There had been something strangely poetic in how pretty the sky looked after he had taken a blow or five to the head, with his teacher sagely informing him that was due to his inner warrior communing with nature using the pain as a conduit, allowing him to truly understand the surroundings he was training in.

All things being equal, of course, Rean thought there was something to the much more conventional brain damage theory, himself.

"My condolences," he said told his fellow first year, wincing the whole time. "Sounds like she really lived up to her reputation."

"And then some," Alan muttered, the sentiment punctuated with another pained laugh. "I mean, not even Loggins would have been able to hold her off for too long… if he had even been here, that is. Not that I'm complaining, I think things would have been a lot worse if he had actually showed up today after skipping the last few…"

"You're probably right. He's really going out his way to avoid her, it sounds like."

"I can't say I blame him. If I did something to make Friedel mad, I'd probably be running and hiding too, especially after today!"

"If you two are quite done," an irritated voice piped from a few riges away, making Rean and Alan blink and turn in unison, "then might I suggest that Schwarzer concludes whatever business he has here? You're interrupting the *wonderful* dream where I died and didn't have to wake up to the world of pain that I inhabit now!"

Rean bit his lip to hide the chuckle. Though it wasn't meant to be particularly mean-spirited, he doubted the blonde would see it that way – and it wasn't as if Rean got the benefit of the doubt from him as is. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Patrick."

"Feel free to go right back to sleep if you can swing it, though," Alan grumbled, the opportunity to needle the blueblood seemingly rejuvenating the other boy. "'World of pain that I inhabit now'… drama queen, much?"

The Hyarms scion sent a dirty look over Alan's way upon hearing his mockery, the imperious expression reminding Rean of the unpleasantness of Class VII's early days, when Jusis was doing his best to play the snobbish aristocrat role to perfection and Machias was all too content to viciously lash out at every turn, whether or not it was justified.

It didn't look as if these two were quite that bad, Rean decided, though from what he remembered from Bridget they had both been making an effort to be somewhat civil after their last tussle.

Perverse as it was, he was sort of curious to see how long that would last.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I couldn't quite hear your attempt at a snide remark over the sound of our captain using you as a practice dummy," Patrick sneered, looking every inch the image of a proud noble despite being on the ground in no condition to move. "Get hit, fall down, get up. Get hit, fall down, get up. Get hit, fall down, get up… didn't anyone ever tell you that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results?

"Well excuse me for showing some backbone," Alan growled, returning the blonde's look with equal distaste. "Yeah, she hit me hard – a bunch of times – but I could still stand up. So I stood up and kept going at her the best I could. You went down once, and you *stayed* down. What does that say, huh?"

"That only one of us is an idiot with a masochistic streak," Patrick jabbed back, smirking in the face of his clubmate's outrage even though it was as clear as day Alan's remark stung quite a bit. "What exactly were you trying to prove, anyway? That you can take a relentless beating better than most? Congratulations, then – mission accomplished!"

"Why don't you say that again, you sorry excuse for a – "

"Ahem."

Both first years blinked and turned back toward Rean, and he was more than a little amused to see their faces go from infuriated to a little sheepish in the span of a few seconds.

"Sorry to interrupt, but if you're both up…ish, and talking, I'd actually like to get to why I came here. Is that okay with you both?" he asked, his perpetually steady gaze flicking between his two fellow first years.

Alan blinked, a look of thoughtful consideration crossing his features. "Yeah, sure thing. Actually, come to think of it you don't exactly show up here too often – we probably should have figured that something was up."

Patrick sniffed with no small amount of disdain, and Rean could only hope that the blonde didn't notice the ever so slight narrowing of his eyes. "Of course he doesn't. So then Schwarzer – what brings the ever present leader of Class VII to our humble clubroom?"

"A request for a friend, if I'm being honest. To be more specific, it actually involves your currently absent captain. Any ideas where I could start?"

Rean was startled when the two boys on the ground immediately looked at each other and then back at him, expressions of pure disbelief on their faces.

"… You're not serious, are you?" Alan asked, in a tone that indicated that he was witnessing stupidity so gloriously transcendent that it could probably be seen from space and have books written about it long after Rean had passed – which, if he went after Friedel in the state she was in, would probably be quite soon.

"Eager to add another body to the pile? I never pictured you for a masochist, but then again considering how you were Reinford's chewtoy for the first part of the year, it makes me wonder…"

" _Thanks, Ferris."_

Out loud – and with his eyebrow only twitching a little, a testament to his self-control if nothing else – Rean gave them both a disarming smile and held up both hands. "C'mon, guys! I get that she gave you both the practice from hell, but for all I know she's calmed down by now…"

Alan's eyes flashed wildly. "You really want to take that risk?"

Patrick sniffed dismissively. "I for one couldn't care less if he does. It's his life; if he wants to lose it in so foolish a manner, that's his business."

"Feeling the love Patrick, I really am," Rean muttered under his breath, before looking at the two incapacitated rivals. "Dangerous to my existence as it may be, I still need to talk to Friedel anyway. Would you either of you two have any clue where she might have gone to?"

He bit his lip to avoid laughing when he saw them glance at each other again; for all that they bickered, they were doing a great job of acting in stereo.

"From what I recall, it's not unusual for her to practice by herself near the fields after we disband. She doesn't do it all the time, but I suppose that's the best starting point I can offer you," Patrick answered, his brow scrunched in thought.

"I remember her and Loggins talking about that one day too, actually. It's not a bad idea… maybe scope out where you and I took on that practice dummy? It's wide open and far from the other clubs, so it's a good spot for working on basic forms."

The dark haired boy gave a slow nod, mentally digesting what he had just been told. " _Hmm… near the fields. It's a good a lead as any!"_

"Got it. Thanks a lot, you two! I appreciate the help."

Alan waved a hand as best he could. "No worries. After what you did for me, it's the least I can do in return.

"Hmph. Speak for yourself. The sooner he gets his information, the sooner he can leave."

The other boy made a noise of disgust from his vantage point on the floor. "Goddess, you can be such a – "

"It's fine," Rean chuckled, not having expected anything less from the Hyarms scion. "This is pretty much normal for us. Now, if I had come in and he had been acting all friendly after waking up, then I'd probably be a lot more concerned."

"H-Hey!" Patrick stormed, pointing and waving his index finger in righteous indignation. "Don't presume that you can be so familiar with - "

"Anyway. Is there anything that I can do for you two before I take off?"

Alan shook his head in the negative, pointedly ignoring the look of supreme frustration on Patrick's face at being ignored. "Nah, don't worry about it. We're definitely tired and sore, but I don't think either one of us is seriously hurt. We're big boys. We'll live."

"You're sure? I mean, I can swing by the dorms and grab Celestin and Bridget, it wouldn't be any trouble at all… "

"NO!" they both roared, leaping to their feet in a stunning display of recovery that had the Eight Leaves initiate temporarily speechless…

Only to realize that he had been a little premature when they then collapsed back down to their spots on the floor, groaning in regret at their ill-advised gesture.

"… We're fine," Alan lied shamelessly.

"Indeed. Feel free to continue on your fool's errand; we can handle ourselves from here." Patrick didn't bother turning to look at Rean, and the dismissal had been delivered in such a cutting manner that if the blueblood hadn't been currently curled up into an utterly miserable ball on the ground, the swordsman might have felt a little offended.

As it stood, he decided to let the two lick their wounds in peace. No serious harm had been done to them, the damage to their pride aside, and Rean still had to track down Friedel and survive the encounter.

Probably easier said than done at this point, all things considered, but Rean Schwarzer never backed down from a challenge, nor did he ever shy away from helping a friend.

"If you say so. I'll leave you both to it, then. Try to take it easy for the rest of the day though, okay?" he told the stricken pair as he strode toward the door, and upon receiving a thumbs up from Alan and a grudging nod from Patrick, Rean left the gymnasium, intent on finding the Fencing Club's captain and hopefully getting all this sorted out face to face.

After he made a quick stop by the noble dorms, of course.

* * *

 _\- Saying that things didn't go according to plan at the Fencing Club was a bit of an understatement, but at least Alan and Patrick were in shape to talk!_

 _\- They both said that there was a good chance that Friedel would be by the fields practicing on her own – luckily I have my tachi on me. With any luck I won't be needing it, but…_

 _\- Chewtoy, Ferris? Really?_

* * *

One of the first things that Rean had learned under Yun Kafai's tutelage was how to sense the 'intent' of his opponent and use that to read their movements and react accordingly. When mastered, the speed with which an Eight Leaves practitioner could attack and defend was taken to a whole different level, and thus it was something Rean had spent quite a bit of time on. It was a point of pride that he had gotten quite proficient at it over the years.

Sometimes, it was a minor as a tingle on the back of his neck, or a bit of pressure in his gut. Other times, it was even less than that, with only the tiniest twitch of a forearm tendon or sideways glance acting as a tell for Rean to pick up on.

And then, of course, there were the moments where the air felt obscenely heavy, with every harsh, stolen breath promising the incoming possibility of death by bloody murder and every second spent under the paralyzing pressure weakening the legs and making the fingers shake. Such were the moments that a swordsman always prepared for, but hoped would never come, his master would always tell him sagely.

Rean wasn't entirely sure how he felt about his first experience with the latter coming on a campus where for all intents and purposes he should have felt protected and safe, but then he remembered Crow's opinion about his chances with a tank and reminded himself for the hundredth time and counting that Friedel's reputation as a combat prodigy had been well-earned…

... Right before he was hit with a sudden wave of sheer malevolence that stopped him dead in his tracks. As much as it pained him to admit it, Crow had it dead on. This was an 'aura of supreme ass-kicking' indeed.

His footsteps had taken him to the deserted fields of Thors; deserted, that is, save for the lone blonde slashing and thrusting at an invisible opponent with such viciousness and ferocity that he had no doubt that had she been fighting a real person they would be either dead or well on their way.

" _Feint to the left, counter-thrust. High guard, middle guard, parry, slash,_ " Rean noted, unable to stop himself from coming up with possible responses to Friedel's exquisite movements. For all the obvious anger in her strokes, their execution was absolutely flawless and there wasn't a single wasted motion in anything she did. Her swordsmanship was flowing, free, and undoubtedly supremely lethal.

… And Rean was about to throw himself into the path of the storm of silver, just as Alan and Patrick had so unwittingly done.

He took a deep breath, centering himself and settling his nerves. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Hey, Friedel."

The blonde immediately flicked her violet gaze towards Rean, and ridiculous as it was the dark haired boy had to resist the urge to drop into stance and ready himself for an attack.

After a moment that felt a lot longer than it probably was, she blinked in recognition and resumed her routine, albeit slightly slower this time. "Rean Schwarzer. Well, isn't this a surprise. May I help you with something?" she asked dispassionately, the sunlight flashing off her blade all the while.

He nodded once, brief and decisive. "Sort of. I'm actually here on behalf of a mutual friend."

Her sword never once ceased as Rean spoke, with the keenly honed edge adroitly parting the air and composing a symphony of excellence with each swing. "I see. I don't suppose you'd be willing to elaborate?"

Rean weighed his options for a few moments before he decided that he was going to have to go with the truth. Loggins hadn't exactly taken long to figure out who the mysterious interloper was, and he doubted it would take Friedel any less time.

"It's like this. Towa's been noticing that you and Loggins have been acting a little strangely around each other lately, and…"

Rean immediately swallowed any other words he might have had when Friedel's stare immediately landed back on him, her eyes blazing with momentary fury before she breathed in deeply and exhaled, blinking slowly in an attempt to calm herself.

He supposed that it was the thought that counted.

"… Has she, now."

The first year nodded in assent.

The blonde sniffed imperiously and started her exercises anew, every fiber of her being struggling mightily to project a façade of supreme indifference and failing miserably. "She's imagining things."

In spite of himself, Rean snorted. "Imagining things?"

An elaborate eye roll. "My, there appears to be an echo around here," she replied, her acid tone a far cry from the impeccably polite second year that had been so eager to help Rean with Alan and Patrick only a few months ago. "Yes. I can assure you, there's nothing amiss, and even if there was, it would be a Fencing Club matter. Such affairs are dealt with internally. So, with all due respect to Towa – "

"… That bad, huh?"

Friedel stopped in her tracks, her steadfast denial having been interrupted. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, not liking the sympathetic look she saw on the younger teen's face.

"Whatever Loggins did, I mean. He didn't elaborate and I didn't ask him to, but he said earlier that he had made you really upset somehow."

Rean watched her with a wary gaze and bated breath as she noticeably stiffened before turning away, gripping the hilt of her sword so tightly that he half expected to hear the sound of cracking soon after.

When she turned back to him a few moments later, he was a little taken aback by the change in her demeanor; though Friedel was still visibly angry, it was tempered by what appeared to be more than a little bit of genuine hurt, and the shift was jarring to see.

"So," she said bitterly, looking at Rean with an expression so cold it made Ymir Valley look like a temperate paradise, "you're saying he didn't take the time to brag about his victory, then? Color me shocked."

He blinked twice, unable to keep the confusion off his face. _"Victory?"_ he repeated to himself, not quite sure where this was going.

If Friedel noticed, however, she was doing a fantastic job of not showing it. After all, she was just getting warmed up.

"Schwarzer!" the blonde barked, steel in her voice now, and Rean found himself standing at attention immediately. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, but you're a student of the Eight Leaves, One Blade school, yes?"

Rean nodded. "That's right. I'm still only an initiate though; I've got a ways to go before I can start learning the more advanced techniques," he answered, mindful to downplay his skills as he always did. He'd seen enough of the truly skilled to understand just where he currently stood in the grand pecking order of things, mysterious power within him or no.

"I see. Out of curiosity, how much of your training was made of sparring against your teacher as compared to practicing basic forms?"

His reply came without hesitation. "Most of it was sparring, actually. My master would show me a technique enough times to ensure that I had the basics down, and once I was capable of executing it I was expected to integrate it into our practice duels. He always said that that practice against a live opponent was always far preferable to mindlessly running through forms in a vacuum. Not that he was implying that what you were doing was redundant or anything," he added with haste.

Friedel acknowledged Rean's sidestep with the barest hint of a nod before continuing on, an agenda clearly on her mind. "And during your practices… I'm assuming that there were set rules in place beforehand."

Rean wasn't totally lost yet, but he was getting dangerously close.

"… Yes and no," he told her, his brow knitting in confusion at her current line of questioning but deciding to press forward anyway. "I mean, most of it was pretty obvious; I was there to practice swordsmanship, so I was strictly limited to my blade and the hand to hand forms of the Eight Leaves if I was unfortunate enough to get disarmed. Besides that, it was basically anything goes. I learned to expect the unexpected pretty quickly," Rean finished, remembering one hard learned lesson that involved Master Kafai charging at him in a form that screamed 'unsheathe and slash', only to land a kick that knocked the wind out of him when Rean had committed to the parry.

 _"Leading with the sword doesn't always mean I'll strike with it. I wouldn't be alive right now if my intentions were so easily telegraphed, now would I?"_

At least that's what he thought his master had said. It was kind of hard to focus on listening when you were doubled over on the ground trying to catch your breath, after all.

"Anything goes, huh?" Friedel repeated ominously, and Rean understood about three seconds too late that he had somehow managed to blunder into saying exactly the wrong thing.

He had a gift for aggravating blondes, it seemed.

"Uh, well – "

"So, what of chivalry, then?" she challenged without mercy, stifling any kind of reply before it could even begin. "Do you suddenly discard the rules of the battlefield for the sake of victory?"

Rean had barely opened his mouth to reply before Friedel was off and running again, but perhaps that was for the best; his master had his own opinion on the reality of the battlefield – _a cold, ruthless place where honor paves the road to inglorious death -_ and while it wasn't one that his student necessarily felt all that comfortable with, it was equally as clear the view held some merit. Not that he was particularly inclined to start a philosophical debate at the moment, of course. He had his hands full as it was.

"And furthermore, would such a tainted victory mean anything in a true comparison of skills? Of course it wouldn't! So why would he…"

 _"Tainted victory? Wait, is she saying Loggins *cheated* to beat her in a sparring match?"_ Rean thought, trying to square the second year that he had spoken with earlier with Friedel's indirect accusation and finding himself unable to. _"That… doesn't sound like him at all."_

The rest of her diatribe faded from her tongue as she glared at Rean, her slim frame quivering with frustration that was begging for a target, and the first year couldn't help but wonder what Class VII would etch on his gravestone if he didn't play his next few cards very carefully; _here lies Rean Schwarzer, a sword through his lungs and a foot so far in his mouth he died tasting fabric and rubber…_

"Freidel?"

Her glare only grew darker, something Rean didn't think was even possible. "What?"

"I admit to not knowing Loggins all that well," he began, watching her eyes narrow further at the source of her scorn, "but he's always come across to me as a straightforward person. I don't think he's got a dishonest bone in his body, really. I mean, can you picture him trying to tell a lie? He'd probably give himself away three words into it."

"… True."

Despite everything, Rean felt encouraged when he saw the corners of her mouth give a minuscule twitch upwards. It definitely wasn't much, but at this point he was going to take whatever positive signs he could get.

"More than that, he's got his pride as a Fencing Club member, too. You remember how angry he was at Patrick and Alan when they were in the middle of their feud and blowing off practices? Loggins wasn't going to tolerate that, and I don't think he's got it in him to be a hypocrite and do that kind of thing himself. I'd have to imagine there'd be some kind of reason behind… uh, whatever he did."

Rean watched carefully as some of the anger gradually faded from Freidel's expression, only to be replaced with nervous uncertainty and sheepish embarrassment, and for a second or two he saw shades of Alisa in her troubled visage. What exactly did Loggins do to warrant that kind of reaction…?

He shook his head hard, recognizing that he was getting sidetracked. That wasn't his concern. What was his concern, however, was somehow getting her and Loggins to try and work things out. Even if he failed, he had to at least give his best.

"Friedel."

The second year snapped to attention, and it was impossible not to notice her reddened cheeks. "What is it?" she asked, her voice as steady and strong as always despite her visibly warring emotions, and Rean couldn't help but admire her sheer force of will. It was no wonder why so many people at Thors thought highly of her.

"Seeing as how it's not my business and I wasn't sent to find out, I'm not going to pry and ask what happened. But take it from someone that's had to wonder… it's always better to know," he told her, his words to Loggins from earlier coming back for a second go around. "I understand it's no fun finding out, believe me. It'll probably be uncomfortable, awkward, tense…"

A ghost of a smile worked its way onto Friedel's face, taking Rean by surprise. "Well, nothing like the voice of experience to make this sound appealing. Sounds like Ms. Reinford did quite a number on you, Schwarzer."

Oh, for the love of _Aidios -_

"… I'm not even going to ask how you know about that, because it seems like everyone I've talked to today does," Rean lamented, much to Friedel's amusement. Apparently Thors' gossip network was fond of him and Alisa – he could only guess why. Didn't people have anything better to do with their time? "But it was worth it for us to talk everything out, simple misunderstanding though it may have been in the end."

Friedel bit her lip and let her gaze drift away, hand gripping onto the hilt of her sword like a lifeline. "That's good for the both of you, and while I don't mean to demean or lessen your viewpoint, this is a little more severe than a 'simple misunderstanding'. No offense intended."

Rean chuckled a little, the tension having dissipated along with her ire. "None taken. With that said… I think we both know the best way to resolve this, difficult as it might be."

A few moments passed in silence, the weight of his words sinking in as Friedel listened, and when she finally looked back at him he wasn't at all surprised to see that it was with a determined light in her eyes. It suited her.

"My," she sighed, regarding Rean with a raised eyebrow and looking so composed you'd have been forgiven for thinking that all was well in the Fencing Club in spite of the two first years who were living proof to the contrary. "No wonder Towa went to you for assistance; you're quite the tenacious one, aren't you?"

"I've heard that before. I'll take that as a compliment."

She gave a dainty sniff, and if not for her stunning display for swordsmanship earlier she would have been the spitting image of the archetypal noble heiress. "Take it however you like. In the meantime… I believe I have unfinished business to settle."

Rean watched as she sheathed her sword and breezed by him without so much as a goodbye. Not that he was expecting one.

"The last time I saw him, he was at the cafeteria. I'm not sure where he'd by now, but that might be the best place to – "

She sent him a last cursory glance over her shoulder as she walked toward the main campus. "He's in the club room."

Well, that had been rather quick.

"You're sure?"

"Of course. I can take matters from here, Schwarzer."

Rean might have sent one last sympathetic gaze her way as she walked off, a 'good luck' on his lips that would never be voiced. Friedel didn't care to look. She had far more pressing matters to be concerned with.

* * *

If and when Friedel deigned to speak to him again, Loggins was probably going to have to speak up about her recent training regimen for dumbass A and dumbass B at some point. Much as they aggravated him sometimes, having the pair of them passed out in front of the gym didn't really give off a good image… particularly since that anyone with a brain who saw them would know right away who put them there.

After all, though there was no doubting he was pretty damn scary, there was also no doubting that Friedel was even _scarier._

Still, there had been no sign of the blonde when he had arrived at the club room, and for that he was eternally grateful. He needed some stress relief after that conversation he and Schwarzer had, and there was little more he found soothing than a session of practice swings. The only thing better would have been a training shell or two, but unsurprisingly Instructor Valestein had already called dibs on most of them; probably for another Class VII field exam.

 _"Wonder how they'd react to me gatecrashing one of those. From what I hear, they sound kinda fun…"_

He had only been a few minutes into his latest drill when his keen ears picked up the sound of familiar footsteps approaching the door, and all the optimism he remembered from earlier did nothing to stop his blood turning to ice when he heard the knob turn.

For a moment, he let irrational hope run wild. " _… Maybe it's not her – "_

"Loggins."

Dammit.

"… Hey. Didn't hear you knock."

"As if I would ever have to. Besides, Aidios knows you need to be kept on your toes every so often."

"Noted. So, here for your pound of flesh, are ya?" he asked, his greeting brash as ever even if his voice didn't follow.

The cool raise of an eyebrow, the gesture unnerving in its unnatural calm. "Funny. You have no idea how close I came to doing just that if not for Rean. You owe him quite the debt, I'll have you know."

"Hmph. Tell you what, I'll spring for flowers for his funeral. Did you leave enough of him for an open casket?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied far too easily. "Why would I have done anything to a well-meaning messenger? He's not the one I'm upset with."

Loggins wisely decided against bringing up how apparently hapless first years were fair game, choosing instead to chance a quick glance at her and _ohfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ he did *not* like that smile, not one bit –

"Look," he sighed, tossing his sword to the side and turning to face her fully, resignation written on his face as he braced himself for the fallout that had been a long time coming. "I know you're mad – "

"And people say you aren't observant."

"… Deserved that."

A pause.

"I – "

"Before you say anything else," Friedel interrupted, squashing his attempted apology like a bug under her heel, "I need to know. _Why?_ "

The confusion, anger, and hurt all packed into that one word made the floor drop out from under Loggins' feet, and he tried in vain to stammer out a response even as his cheeks burned with shame.

Friedel wasn't about to make it that easy for him.

"Why, Loggins?" she repeated, her hands clenching into fists, and the taller boy thanked Aidios for the small blessing of the blonde having left her sword by the doorway. "In all the time that we've known each other, I've never known you to resort to such despicable, treacherous measures – "

"W-Wait just a damn minute! You don't think you're being a little – hell if I know, unreasonable?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously, and Loggins found himself backing up in very short order.

"Unreasonable?" she echoed, taking a step forward with each syllable. "Unreasonable?! You're certainly one to talk when you ended our last practice match by _kissing me!"_

Loggins flinched.

"So I'll ask you again Loggins – why? Did you want to win so badly that you'd resort to such cowardly tactics? Was your pride so wounded that you needed to claim victory by any means possible? Did beating me matter **that** much to you?!"

Other than the sound of Friedel's heavy breathing, there was dead silence in the room. Until…

* * *

"… What."

Loggins' response was completely flat, devoid of any inflection or emotion, and Friedel found herself staring incredulously at him, the blank expression on his face somehow making her even angrier.

"I'm sorry, should I have spoken slower?"

"Okay, lemme see if I have this right," Loggins replied, ignoring the blonde's snide remark as if it hadn't been uttered. "We're sparring, I do something... uh, really stupid, and you think it's because I wanted to cheat my way to a win?"

When he saw her eyes narrow further and her hands move to her hips, he just couldn't help the laughter that started to bubble up as he turned away.

Of course. Of course she would see it that way. Goddess, what a fucking gongshow. Was this fitting, or what?

"Wow," Loggins uttered in something halfway between a guffaw and a curse. "Wow. That's just… I mean, what I did was out of line for sure and I deserve the beating that's coming my way in a few minutes, but I'm pretty damn sure _any_ other girl would have gotten the message."

Her lips thinned (and damn, the fact he found that appealing kind of proved he couldn't learn for shit and that he was an absolute glutton for punishment). "What are you trying to tell me, Loggins?"

"Hold your damn horses. I need to take the time to savor the moment. This might be the first and last chance I get to say this."

"Say what?" she demanded, her patience just about at its breaking point.

He looked at her again, and there was a resigned serenity to his face usually only found on those headed to the gallows or those convinced to drink with Instructor Sara. "You're dumb, Friedel. You're really, really dumb."

Seconds passed. Birds stopped chirping outside. Casper, Klein and Monica felt a rapid chill and decided to end swimming practice early. Emma and Machias both opened the doors to their club rooms at the same time, wordlessly asking one another if they felt that ominous weight in the air. Gaius looked up from his painting with a frown, noting the wind's disturbing shift, and a startled Jusis and a frantic Paula found themselves having to calm a stable of suddenly terrified horses who seemingly wanted nothing more than to be away from Thors.

And somewhere on the sprawling campus, both Alan and Patrick would feel shivers roll down their spines.

"What. Was. That?" she demanded, her voice having gone stiff with sheer outrage.

Loggins shrugged, and Friedel was far too agitated to notice the tension in the seemingly cavalier gesture. "I call it like I see it. Gotta say though, never thought I'd see the whole blonde thing kick in with you. First time for everything, right?"

Later on – much later – Friedel would claim that it was only her need for an explanation that kept her from exacting some much deserved payback right then and there. Loggins wasn't about to complain.

"Oh, so you're saying that I'm not only 'unreasonable', I'm stupid as well? But I suppose you wouldn't care to explain that last remark, seeing how shamelessly you ended our last encounter," she told him, every word soaked in acid, and the clenching of his jaw told the girl volumes, a reflex of a person pushed to their limit.

"What's wrong? Nothing to say?" she continued with her attack, and his reaction was as incendiary as she might have expected it to be.

"What the _fuck_ do you want me to say, Friedel?!" Loggins roared, and all the poison that was on her tongue vanished into nothing when she saw the helpless frustration burning in his eyes. "I mean, do you seriously think I'd pull something like that for the sake of a win? For Aidios' sake, I'd rather let you beat me *comatose* before I'd sink that low!"

Anger was warring with confusion on Friedel's face now – she wanted to believe, she really did, and Loggins took a deep breath to help brace himself for the question he knew was coming.

"T-Then why?" she began, and it was impossible for either not to notice her stammer. "It makes no sense – "

Loggins threw up his hands and turned around to avoid her eyes, knowing he was being every bit the coward she had accused him of being and hating every second of it. "Makes no sense? Friedel, are you honestly telling me that if you took five damn seconds to think about it you wouldn't be able to come up with the main reason that a guy wants to kiss a girl?"

Neither one said anything as his words sank in, the boy waiting with bated breath for any kind of response.

Five, four, three, two, one -

"… Oh."

He exhaled roughly, and he couldn't quite shake the feeling of having been punched.

Her apparent epiphany was quiet, hardly the mark of enthusiasm, and in spite how stupidly cliché it was Loggins felt a sick, a twisting sensation in his gut that told him not only was the best friendship that he had at Thors now in flames, he had been the one to light the match.

He'd give Schwarzer credit, though. At least he knew now.

"Yeah," he chuckled weakly, wishing for all the world that he could have been anywhere but there. "Oh."

Friedel said nothing. He decided to try and press onwards anyway. She deserved it, and Loggins hadn't gotten to where he was by taking the path of least resistance, after all.

"I'm sorry. I don't… I don't know what I was thinking."

His admission was raw and unguarded, and it only underscored the heart of the matter; that he really didn't have any idea of what was running through his mind at the moment of truth. They had been engaged in a dance – their dance – of sharp movement and sharper blades until Friedel had clinched in tighter than she ever had before, locking their swords with her face only riges from his own and asking with a playful lilt if he intended to surrender before the situation got even worse for him. His gaze had fallen to alluringly pink lips, and before he knew it…

(She had tasted like raspberries. He was never getting that out of his head).

"So, the reason you… that is to say…"

His eyes closed in exasperation. " _Yes._ Goddess Friedel, what do you want me to do, sing it for you?"

Had Loggins been looking, he would have seen the blonde smile just the slightest bit. "You know, seeing that might have made this entire mess worth it."

There was a strange note in her voice now, something unfamiliar and alien to his ears yet irresistibly magnetic at the same time, and it stirred something inside him that he ruefully recognized as the unextinguished embers of hope.

He didn't want to turn around.

He had to turn around.

"Loggins."

His name was quiet on her lips, little more than a breath, and it pierced through him like nothing had before. He felt his hands clench into fists and his teeth start to grit, and he was frustrated and upset and remorseful and flying head over heels into something that he wasn't remotely fucking prepared to deal with –

"Loggins. Please."

A hand ghosted over his shoulder blade, bidding him to look at her, and the battle was over before it had begun because Loggins had never been able to deny her anything. Not that she ever asked for much to begin with. It was a good relationship that way.

Friedel didn't seem to be upset anymore, and there was a quiet understanding in her violet eyes that softened the dread and shame that had been building in his stomach like a weight. Loggins breathed out slowly, relaxing his hands and letting some of the stress of the past week drain away.

"… We're very bad at this, you know," she observed, and he blinked twice and stared at her blankly because that was a really strange non-sequitur to drop out of nowhere, wasn't it?

"Bad at what?"

The blonde waved one hand absentmindedly, the other coming up to smooth out his perpetually misaligned lapels in a painfully familiar gesture, and every breath he took was starting to come just a little bit faster now. "Communicating, I suppose. As swordsmen we're supposed to be primarily people of action, but I'm sure you can see how words on both our sides might have saved quite a few people an awkward week."

Okay, where the hell did he even start with that?

"Uh, Friedel…?"

A fond sigh. "Yes, I'm an idiot. But then again so are you, so I suppose we'll match on that front."

She gingerly stood on her tiptoes then, before the boy could say anything indignant, and she silenced him with the taste of raspberries, her eyes fluttering shut even as his widened to take in a moment that would be forever theirs and theirs alone.

There was warmth, sweetness, light, and everything else good about the world in it, a quiet rush that swam through his blood and into shaking hands that gingerly settled onto lithe shoulders, the hesitant touch making her smile against his lips, and was no doubting that this was far better as a mutual affair.

When she finally stepped away, it was with rosy cheeks and a wide smile, her palms resting against his broad chest, and she took a moment to take in his awestruck expression and feel the rapid beating of his heart.

Hers was beating just as fast, she knew.

"Well. This will undoubtedly take some getting used to, but at least we know that works."

Much to her satisfaction, he chuckled warmly, the rumble quiet beneath her fingertips. "Yeah, I'd say so."

"Hmm." She looked up at him again with a curious expression on her face, letting her arms wind around his neck with surprisingly casual ease. "I don't suppose you're in any rush to label anything?"

He shrugged. "Not really. I mean, people on campus run their mouths no matter what we say, so I say let 'em keep on thinking what they want. Only difference is that they're gonna be right this time."

Her eyebrows raised, clearly impressed. "A wise choice and a workable solution all in one. You're full of surprises today, aren't you Loggins?"

"Workable? Seriously? That's what you're friggin going with?" he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"If the shoe fits. By the way," she continued casually, her grip around him not slackening, "for the sake of fair disclosure; if you ever pull that on me during a spar again, _I will kill you_."

Loggins grinned broadly in the face of her fierce pride, the fact that she was absolutely serious not denting his mood in the slightest. "You got it."

"And I was winning that fight."

The taller boy snorted. "No shit."

"Good. Now," Friedel trailed off, a smirk that Loggins just knew was going to be the end of him creeping onto her face, "I do believe we left off somewhere…"

* * *

"Hey, Schwarzer!"

Rean looked up from his seat on the grass upon hearing his name, and he smiled warmly upon seeing Loggins and Friedel strolling past, looking as comfortable with each other as they ever had.

"Good afternoon, you two. Everything okay now, I take it?"

Friedel nodded gracefully, a serene expression on her face. "That it is. You can pass on to Towa that our dispute is over and done with… along with our gratitude for her concern. Isn't that right?"

"Eh, sure."

"That's 'please do', in Loggins-speak," the blonde quipped, rolling her eyes facetiously. "And we both owe you as well, both for your assistance and for your tact. Though I'm sure we both came off as unreceptive initially, I'll admit that your words played a key role in resolving this, so… thank you."

Loggins nodded firmly as he reached into his satchel to toss something Rean's way. "Yeah, thanks. This isn't much, but it's the least we can do. Should come in handy during those insane field studies of yours, if nothing else."

Rean reflexively caught the object, immediately recognizing the distinct feel of packaged Zeram Powder. "You're sure?"

The taller boy snorted. "Wouldn't have thrown it at you if I wasn't."

"Fair enough," Rean laughed, shaking his head as the pair continued walking onward. "Far be it from me to turn down something like this."

"Good man," the blonde teased, and in the fading light Rean swore he saw her fingertips brush delicately across Loggins' wrist. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Rean."

The first year nodded and gave a short wave in farewell, waiting until they were well and truly out of sight before reaching into his own bag to pull out his notebook and a pen…

* * *

 _\- It looks like Friedel and Loggins managed to talk things out! All's well that ends well, I guess. Towa should be happy!_

 _\- I still do kind of wonder what went on, but I've got a feeling that should only be for them to know._

 _\- This stuff's really good for injuries and exhaustion… maybe I should divide it into two and give it to Alan and Patrick?_

\- … _on second thought, Patrick's probably fine._

* * *

AN: This was supposed to be done a lot earlier than it was, but, as it tends to do on occasion, life kinda got in the way. At any rate, got the Fencing Club idea out of my system; it was a little tough to find their voices considering we actually don't see too much of Friedel and Loggins in the first game and even less of them in the second (along with some of other characters that I used, to say nothing of Master Kafai), but that's where the fun is, too! That said I'm guessing the Sen III hype is going to keep me flush with ideas for a little while; don't know what's coming next, but I don't think I'm quite done with this series yet.

And now, as always…

* * *

 **OMAKE**

"Wake up, Alan. This is no place for a nap."

The sensation of a featherlike touch brushing across his forehead stirred Alan from his fitful rest, and his eyes fluttered open to see Bridget above him, an amused smile on her face.

"Hey," Alan greeted, wincing a little as he looked around, still clearly exhausted from the intense training session earlier. "Huh. Where did Patrick go?"

The blonde pointed in the general direction of her dormitory. "Oh, Celestin arrived here at around the same time I did. He managed to wake Patrick up – no easy feat there – and helped him to his feet and stumble off back to his room."

Alan snorted. "Helped, dragged, what's the difference, right?"

She rolled her eyes and poked him in the arm, smirking a little at the indignant wince. "Be nice. The last thing we need is you two sniping at each other again."

"Yeah, yeah." He stopped for a second, looking curious now. "Wait, you and Celestin both got here at the same time? How did – "

"Rean," she answered, smirking harder at the face he made. "He spun quite the tale about an upset Friedel and the Fencing Club practice from hell…?"

"That's pretty much it in a nutshell. After putting us… well, more me, through our paces, we managed to stumble out here and kinda passed out again." He looked a little uncomfortable with the admission, but it was what it was. He hadn't stood a chance, and there was no point sugarcoating it.

She gave a soft snicker in reply to that. "Again? Oh, poor you. And I suppose poor Patrick as well."

Alan shot her a look that was equal parts fondness and exasperation. "Laugh it up, why don't you. What if we had been lying here seriously hurt, huh?" he challenged playfully. "Wouldn't be so funny then!"

Bridget shot him a flat eyed stare that would have made Alisa proud. "But you weren't. After all, from what I've heard you've been toughening up quite a bit thanks to the Fencing Club's efforts."

The boy tried and failed to keep the sudden redness from flooding his cheeks upon hearing the compliment, and they darkened further still when Bridget noticed and bit back a grin.

"Still can't take praise very well, I see. You really haven't changed since Sunday school," she laughed, reaching out to ruffle his hair like she had when they were kids, Goddess only knew he had the best reactions to that –

Until the laughter stopped abruptly when her questing fingertips came across a rather large bump on his scalp, drawing a quick hiss of pain from Alan that, try as he might, couldn't hide.

Silence.

"… Hey. It's really – "

"You said you weren't seriously hurt," she accused, all traces of good humor having vanished, and Alan winced guiltily upon seeing her creased brow and concerned eyes.

"I'm not! A bump here, a scratch there, maybe a bruise or two… I mean, I took my lumps, but angry as she was Friedel wasn't trying to kill us or anything," he quickly explained, trying to reassure her. "It was more exhaustion from trying to keep up more than anything else. I'm fine."

She frowned.

"I am," Alan repeated, slowly sitting up so he could look at her properly. "Really, I am. I promise."

"This doesn't feel fine," she muttered, drawing her hand back through his chocolate locks gingerly and brushing across the welt with the pad of her thumb. "Wait, let me get my orbment – "

"Okay, hold up!" he exclaimed, his right hand shooting out to grasp hers before it could reach into her bag. "It's not that bad, so don't expend any energy you don't have to, all right?" he told her, knowing full well that a day at Thors left the average student tired both physically and mentally… and that didn't even include clubs.

She blinked twice, staring at their joined hands, before finally looking back at her childhood friend and giving him a slow nod.

"All right," she acquiesced, not looking all that convinced but willing to drop the matter. "If you're sure."

"I am. A decent night's sleep and I'll be as good as new."

"Mm," she murmured, doubt still written all over her face. "In the meantime, is there anything else I can do to help?"

Alan laughed at that, shaking his head. She really was the kindest person he knew. "Nah, not really. It's not worth wasting any curatives or orbal arts on, and unfortunately I don't think what you did when we were kids is going to work anymore, so…" he trailed off, lost in the memory of simpler times, and he missed the brief look of consideration that flitted across her features.

He was still chuckling when he felt her other hand sweep through his hair again before she lowered her head and gently kissed the bruised skin, and as it turned out it was really kind of hard to keep a laugh up when a heart decided to skip a few beats.

She pulled away moments later, a sunny smile on her face. "I figured it was worth a try! Do you feel better?"

He nodded mutely, still unable to speak.

"Good. Now, let's get you to your dorm so that you can rest properly."

That snapped him out of his reverie, and he frowned a little at the implication. "Hey, I may be a little beat, but I'm pretty sure I can handle a three minute walk unassisted!"

"I know you can," Bridget sighed patiently. "But I haven't seen you all week. Is it so wrong to want to spend time with my friend?"

Incredibly unfair? Yes. Incredibly effective? Also yes.

"W-Well, uh – "

"Glad you see it my way! Come on Alan," she chirped, looking entirely too satisfied, and Alan could only start laughing again helplessly as she pulled him along.

This girl was going to be the death of him one day, and the scary thing was? Alan wasn't all that sure he minded.

 **OMAKE 2**

"Heya, Rean."

"Hi to you too, Crow."

"So, I heard about your latest exploit from Towa. Man oh man, getting involved with in a spat like that with _those_ two of all people… gotta say, that hide of yours must be as tough as iron."

"Thanks for the… compliment, I think? But it wasn't any big deal, really. If anything, I just shared some of my experiences with – "

"Having a pissed off blonde wanting a piece of you in a very painful but unfortunately non-dirty way? Yeah, I heard that for your first month here you were gunning for it as a second major," Crow quipped, eyebrows raising as his eyes fixed on a spot just over Rean's shoulder.

The first year made a face, oblivious to the incoming danger behind him with Crow – always supernaturally aware of a chance for entertainment – in no hurry to point it out. "Haha. Well, I wouldn't quite put it _that_ way, but…"

"But what, Rean?" a new voice popped up before Rean could finish, freezing the swordsman in his tracks.

"… Alisa."

Crow didn't bother to hide his smirk.

"Oh no, please don't stop on my account. I'm curious now, and seeing as you seem to be an expert on the subject; how _would_ you put it, then?" the fresh from lacrosse practice Alisa asked sweetly, her hands clutching the stick so tightly the swordsman swore he could hear it begging for mercy.

He could empathize. He'd probably have to do the same thing in a few minutes.

"Well, my job's done! I'll leave you two kids to it. Later all," Crow finished, shaking his head with a wide grin on his face as he sauntered off, whistling jauntily with every annoyed step Alisa took toward the rapidly backpedaling Rean.

Goddess, sometimes life just made things too damn easy, didn't it?


End file.
